 Book 3, Chapter 10 of The Lancashire Witches The Lancashire Witches, A Romance of Pendle-Forest By William Harrison Ainsworth Book 3, Out and Tire Chapter 10 Evening Entertainments Other amusements were reserved for the evening, while revelry was again held in the Great Hall, while the tables groaned for the third time since morning with good cheer, and the ruby wine which seemed to gush from inexhaustible fountains mantled in the silver-flaggons, while Sennischal, Soer and Pantler, with the yeoman of the buttery in the kitchen, were again actively engaged in their occasions, while of the three hundred guests more than half, as if in sentient, again vied with each other in prowess with the trencher and the goblet, while in the words of old Taylor the water-poet, but who was no water-drinker, and who thus sang of the hospitality of the men of Manchester in the early part of the seventeenth century. They had roast, boiled, baked, too, too much, white, claret, sack, nothing they thought too heavy or too hot, can followed can, and pot succeeded pot. During this time, preparations were made for fresh entertainments out of doors. The gardens at Houghton Tower, though necessarily confined in space, sowing to their situation on the brow of a hill, were beautifully laid out, and commanded from their ballasted terraces, magnificent views of the surrounding country. Below them lay the well-wooded park, skirted by the silvery Darwin, with the fair village of Walton-Lidale immediately beyond it, the proud town of Preston farther on, and the single coned nose-point rising majestically in the distance. The principal garden constituted a square, and was divided, with mathematical precision, according to the formal taste of the time, into smaller squares, with a broad, well-kept gravel walk at each angle. These plots were arranged in various figures and devices, such as the sack-foil, the flower de luce, the tree-foil, the lozinge, the fret, the diamond, the crossbow, and the oval, all very elaborate and intricate in design. Besides these knots, as they were termed, there were labyrinths, and clipped U-tree walks, and that indispensable requisite to a garden at the period amaze. In the centre was a grassy eminence, surmounted by a pavilion, in front of which spread a grass-plot of smoothest turf, ordinarily used as a bowling-green. At the lower end of this a temporary stage was erected for the mosque, about to be represented before the king. Tortures were kindled, and numerous lamps burned in the branches of the adjoining trees, but they were scarcely needed, for the moon-being at the fall, the glorious effulgence shed by her upon the scene, rendered all other light pale and ineffectual. After supper, at which the drinking was deeper than at dinner, the whole of the revelers repaired to the garden, full of frolic and merriment, and well-disposed for any diversion in store for them. The king was conducted to the bowling-green by his host, preceded by a crowd of attendants, bearing odiferous torches, but the royal gate being somewhat unsteady, the aid of Sir Gilbert Houghton's arm was required to keep the monarch from stumbling. The rest of the Bacchanalians followed, and slated as they were. It will not be wondered that they put very little restraint upon themselves, but shouted, sang, danced, and indulged in all sorts of licence. Opposite the stage, prepared for the maskers, a platform had been reared, in front of which was a chair for the king, with seats for the nobles and principal guests behind it. The sides were hung with curtains of crimson velvet, fringed with gold, the roof decorated like a canopy, so that it had a very magnificent effect. James lalled back in his chair, and gested loudly and rather indecorously with the various personages as they took their places around him. In less than five minutes the whole of the green was filled with revelers, and great was the pushing and jostling, the laughing and screaming, that ensued among them. Silence was then enjoined by Sir John Finnit, who had stationed himself on the steps of the stage, and at this command the assemblage became comparatively quiet, though now and then a half-suppressed titter or a smothered scream would break out. Amid this silence the king's voice could be distinctly heard, and his coarse jests reached the ears of the astonished audience, provoking many a severe comment from the elders, and much secret laughter from the juniors. The mask began. Two chuchilla deities appeared on the stage. They were followed by a band of foresters clad in Lincoln green, with bows at their backs. The first deity wore a white linen tunic, with flesh-coloured hose and red buskins, and had a purple taffeta mantle over his shoulders. In his hand he held a palm-branch, and a garland of the same leaves was woven round his brow. The second household god was a big brawny violet, wild and shaggy in appearance, being clothed in the skins of beasts with sandals of untanned cow-hide. On his head was a garland of oak leaves, and from his neck hung a horn. He was armed with a hunting-spir and a wood-knife, and attended by a large Lancashire Mastiff. Advancing to the front of the stage, the foremost personage thus addressed the monarch, This day great king, for guv'nment admired, which these thy subjects have so much desired, shall be kept ally in their art's best treasures, and vowed to James, as is this month to Caesar, and now the landlord of this ancient tower. Thrice fortunate to see this happy hour, whose trembling heart thy presence sets on fire, unto this house the art of all our shire, doth bid they cordial welcome and would speak it, in higher notes, but extreme joy doth break it. He makes his guests most welcome, in his eyes, love tears do sit, not he that shouts and cries, and weigh the antique guardians of this place, eye of this house, ear of the fruitful chase, since they bore the outings from the hill-tuck name, who with the stiff unbridled Saxons came, and so have flourished in this fairer climb, successively from that to this hour time, still offering all our immortal powers, sweet incense, wine, and odoury fairer's flowers, while sacred vester in her virgin tire, with vows and wishes, tends to hallowed fire, now seeing that thy majesty is thus greater than household deities like us, we render up to thy most powerful guard this tower, this night is thy knee, is thy ward, for by thy helping and auspicious hand, he and his home shall ever, ever stand and flourish in despite of envious fate, and then live like Augustus, fortune eight, and long, long, mayst thou live, to which both men and guardian angels cry, amen, amen. James, who had demeaned himself critically during the delivery of the address, observed at its close to Sir Richard Houghton, who was standing immediately behind his chair, hey, we cannot see Mikkel for the reins, which are but indifferently strung together, but the sentiments are real and good, and that is all we care for. On this the second tutula divinity advanced, and throwing himself into an attitude as if bewildered by the august presence in which he stood exclaimed, Thou greatest of mortals, and then stopped as if utterly confounded. The king looked at him for a moment, and then roared out, Well, good man, your commencement is pertinent and true enough, and though we be the greatest of mortals as you style us, dinner-fash yourself about or grandeur, but go on, as if we were near better nor wiser than your in simple cell. But instead of encouraging the dumb-founded deity, this speech completely upset him. He hastily retreated, and in trying to screen himself behind the huntsman, fell back from the stage, and his hound leapt after him. The incident, whether premeditated or not, amused the spectators much more than any speech he could have delivered, and the king joined heartily in the merriment. Silence being again restored, the first divinity came forward once more, and spoke thus, Dreadlord, thy majesty, our stricken dumb, is weaker Godhead, if to himself he gone unto thy servant's dread, he will commend these foresters and charge them to attend, thy pleasure in this park, and show such sport to the chief huntsman and thy princely court, as the small circle of this rounder fords, and be more ready than he was in words. Note these speeches, given by Nichols, are derived from the family records of Sir Henry Philip Houghton Maronet, and were actually delivered at a mask representing an occasion of King James' visit to Houghton Tower. End of note. Though he held spoken unto the purpose, good fellow, cried James, and we take this opportunity of assuring our worthy host and the presence of his other guests, that we have never had better sport in park or forest than we have this day enjoyed, have never eaten better cheer, nor quaff better wine than at his board, and all together have never been more hospitably welcomed. Sir Richard was overwhelmed by his majesty's commendation, for I have done nothing my gracious liege, he said, to merit such acknowledgement on your part, and the delight I experience is only tempered by my utter unworthiness. Ah, who toot, man, replied James jocularly, you merit a best deal mere than we have said to you, but good-forged dinner always get their desserts, you cannot, Sir Richard. And now, are you not some other droller is in store for us? The baronet replied in the affirmative, and soon afterwards the stage was occupied by a new class of performers, and a droller he commenced which kept the audience in one continual roar of laughter so long as it lasted. And yet none of these parts had been studied, the actors entirely trusting to their own powers of comedy to carry it out. The principal character was the cap justice, enacted by Sir John Finnet, who took occasion in the course of the performance to lampool and satirize most of the eminent legal characters of the day, mimicking the voice and manners of the three justices, Crook, Houghton, and Dodridge, so admirably that his hearers were well-nike and volced, and the three learned gentlemen who sat near the king, though fully conscious of the ridicule applied to them, were obliged to laugh with the rest. But the unsparing satirist was not content with this, but went on with most of the other attendants upon the king, and being intimately versed in court scandal, he directed his lash with telling effect. As a contrast to the malicious pleasantry of the cap justice, were the gambles and jests of Robin Goodfellow, a merry imp who, if he had put people into mischief, was always ready to get them out of it. Then there was a dance by Bill Huckler, Old Crambo, and Tom Bedlam, the half-crazed individual already mentioned as being among the crowd in the base court. This was applauded to the echo and consequently repeated. But the most diverting scene of all was that in which Jem Tosspot and the three doll Wangos appeared. Though given in the broadest vernacular of the county and scarcely intelligible to the whole of the company, the dialogue of this part of the piece was so lifelike and natural that every one recognized its truth, while the situations, arranged with the slightest effort and on the spur of the moment, were extremely ludicrous. The scene was supposed to take place in a small Lancashire ale house, where a jovial peddler was carousing, and where, being visited by his three sweethearts, each of whom he privately declared to be the favorite, he had to reconcile their differences and keep them all in good humour. Familiar with the character in all its aspects, Nicholas played it to the life, and to do them justice, Dames, Baldwin, Tetlow and Lance Redfern were but little, if at all, inferior to him. There was a reality in their jealous quarrelling that gave infinite zest to the performance. So the mad body, exclaimed James, admiringly, does a three braw woman any other than Mon Besac's fetish is an inch, and wheel-made and well-favoured too. Sounds so rigid. There's nest under the spells of your Lancashire, which is, high-born and low-born, that are alike. I would there only witchcraft lay in their eye, and I should then hide a less fear on them. But heavy art may, for it's growing late, and we can, we have something to do in that pavilion. Only her merry dance by Lige, in which a man will appear in a dendrological foliage of fronds, replied the Baronet. James laughed at the description, and soon afterwards a party of mummers, male and female, clad in various grotesque garbs, appeared on the stage. In the midst of them was the dendrological man, enclosed in a framework of green boughs, like that born by a modern jack-in-the-green. A ring was formed by the mummers, and the round commenced to lively music. While the mazy measure was proceeding, Nans Redfern, who had quitted the stage with Nicholas, and now stood close to him among the spectators, said in a low voice, Luke Dayer. The square glanced in the direction indicated, and to his surprise and terror, discerned among the crowd at a little distance, the figure of a Cistercian monk. He's invisible to every eye except our own, whispered Nans, and it's gone to tell me it is time. Damn for what? demanded Nicholas. Damn for you to seize them dual-cursing devices, Gem and his mother, replied Nans. They're both on young boards. Gem is the man in the tree, and Elizabeth is the old crown in the red girdle, and I crown that. You will know her face when you pluck off her mask. The monk is gone, cried Nicholas. I've kept my eyes steadily fixed on him, and he's melted into air. What has he to do with the devices? He is dead fat, returned Nans, and I are acting under his orders. For mount and seize them, I wouldn't go with you. Forcing his way through the crowd, Nicholas ran up the steps, and followed by Nans, sprang upon the stage. His appearance occasioned considerable surprise, but as he was recognised by the spectators as the jolly Gem Tosspot, who had so recently diverted them, and his companion as one of the three doll-wangos, in anticipation of some more fun they received him with a round of applause. But without stopping to acknowledge it, or being for a moment diverted from his purpose, Nicholas seized the old crown, and consigning her to Nans, caught hold of the leafy frame in which the man was encased, and pulled him from under it. But he began to think that he had uncannled the wrong fox. For the man, though a tall fellow, bore no resemblance to Gem Device. While, when the crown's mask was plucked off, she was found to be a comely young woman. Meanwhile, all around was in an uproar, and amidst a hurrican of hisses, yells, and other indications of displeasure from the spectators, several of the mammas demanded the meaning of such a strange and unwarrantable proceeding. They are a couple of witches, cried Nicholas. This is Gem Device, and his mother Elizabeth. Thy name is neither general device, cried the man. No man, Elizabeth, screamed the woman. We know the devices, cried two or three voices, and there's a none of them. Nicholas was perplexed. The storm increased, threats accompanied the hisses, when luckily he aspired a ring on the man's finger. He instantly seized his hand, and held it up to the general gaze. A proof! a proof! he cried. This sapphire ring was given by the king to my cousin Richard Asherton this morning, and stolen from him by Gem Device. Examine their faces again, said Nancy Redfern, waving her hands over them. Yet we nor know them now. The woman's face instantly altered, many years being added to it in a breath. The man changed equally, the utmost astonishment was evinced by all at the transformation, and the bystanders, who had spoken before, now cried out loudly, We know them perfectly now, they are the two devices! By this time an officer, attended by a party of halberdeers, had mounted the boards, and the two prisoners were delivered to their custody by Nicholas. I would, cried the man. I would no longer demand my name, I am Gem Device, and this is my mother Elizabeth. For a worse offender than I, there on all stands a foyer. This woman is Nancy Redfern, granddaughter of the odd ag mother Chathux. A charger we make in wax images, and sticking pins in them, we intend to kill folk. Who would have killed me, missel, with her devilry, if I hadn't had been so strong for her? And that's why her bears me malice, and has betrayed me to squire Nicholas Asherton. Say, sir, and call me as a witness again, though. And as Nancy was secured, he laughed malignantly. I cannot, replied Nancy, I am now revenged on your death. While this impromptu performance took place, as much to the surprise of James as anyone else, and while he was desiring Sir Richard Houghton to ascertain what it all meant, at the very moment that the two devices and Nancy removed from the stage, Anusha approached the monarch, and said that Master Potts entreated a moment's audience of his majesty. Potts, exclaimed James, somewhat confused, was he? Ah, yeah, I'd recollect. A witch-finder? Well, let him approach. Accordingly, the next moment the little attorney, whose face was evidently charged with some tremendous intelligence, was ushered into the king's presence. After a profound reverence, he said, May it be your majesty, I have something for your private ear. Ah, will then, replied James, approach us more closely. What you got to see, sir? Oh, merring in these witches. A great deal-sire, said Potts, in an impressive tone, something dreadful has happened, something terrible. Eh? What? exclaimed James, looking alarmed. What is it, man? Speak. Murder's eye. Murder has been done, said Potts, in low thrilling accents. Murder! exclaimed James, horror-stricken. Tell us all about it, and we hope more will do. But Potts was still circumspect. With an air of deepest mystery, he approached his head as near as he dared to that of the monarch, and whispered in his ear. Can this be true? cried James. If say, it's very shocking, very sad. It is too true, as your majesty will find on investigation, replied Potts. The little girl I told you of, Janet, device, saw it done. The real heel says, near-cunting for a human frailty and wickedness, said James. Let our necessary steps be taken at once. We will consider what to do. But dear sir, didn't I let the bear and Janet go? Holder of us. Do you mean that? Now go, and cause the guilty party to be put under arrest. And on receiving this command, Master Potts departed. Scarcely was he gone. The Nicholas Asherton came up to the railing of the platform, and imploring his majesty's forgiveness for the disturbance he had occasioned, explained that it had been owing to the seizure of the two devices, who for some wicked but unexplained purpose had contrived to introduce themselves under various disguises into the tower. Ah, you did right to arrest the miscreant, sir. But he heard what has happened. No, I'll age. Replied Nicholas, alarmed by the king's manner. What is it? Ah, come nearer, and you shall learn, for we wouldn't hear brought to the boat, though, if true as we can adult, it will be known soon enough. And as the squire bent forward, he imparted some intelligence to him, which instantly changed the expression of the latter to one of mingled horror and rage. It is false, sir. He cried, I will answer for her innocence in my life. She could not do it. Your majesty's patience is abused. It is Jenny to has done it, not she. But I will unravel the terrible mystery. You have the other two wretches' prisoners and can enforce the truth from them. Ah, we will essay to do so, reply James. But we hear also another prisoner. Christopher Demdike, said Nicholas. Ah, Christopher Demdike, rejoined James. But another beside him, Mistress Nutter. You stare, sir, but it is true. She's in yonder pavilion. We can fool well who assisted her a flight and who concealed her. Master Potts has told us all. It is will for you that your pure kinsman Richard Asherton did us such good service at the bore-hunt today. We shall not now be unmindful of it, even though he cannot send us the ring we gave him. It is here, sir, replied Nicholas. It was stolen from him by the Bill and Jim device. The poor youth meant to use it for our listen. I now deliver it to your Majesty. That's coming from him in her behalf. And we say receive it, replied the monarch, brushing away the moisture that gathered thickly in his eyes. At this moment a tall personage wrapped in a cloak who appeared to be an officer of the guard approached the railing. I have come to inform your Majesty that Christopher Demdike has just died of his wounds, said this personage. Ah, see, he's had a stray death after all. Rejoined Demdike's well. We're sorry for it. His portion will be eternal bail. Observed the officer. Oh, no, you that, sir, demanded the King sharply. You're not his judge. I witnessed his ensire, replied the officer, and no man who died as he died can be saved. The fiend was beside him at his death-rows. Save us, exclaimed James. You didn't say so. God sent him. Man, but this is gruesome. And guess the flesh creep on one's veins. Let his foul carcass be tained away and hang it on a gibbet on the hill where Malken Tower since stood, as a one into all such heinous offenders. As the King ceased speaking, Master Potts appeared out of breath and greatly excited. She has escaped, Sire, he cried. Oh, Janet, exclaimed James, if they will hang you when all is dead. No, Sire. Alison, replied Potts, I can nowhere find her now, and he hesitated. Well, will this nigger a matter, replied James, as if relieved and with a glance of satisfaction at Nicholas. I know where Alison is, Sire, said the officer. Indeed, exclaimed James. This fellow is strangely officious. He muttered to himself. And where may she be, sir? he added, aloud. I will produce her within a quarter of an hour in Yon the Pavilion, replied the officer, and all that Master Potts has been unable to find. Your Majesty may trust him, observed Nicholas, who had attentively regarded the officer. Depend upon it, he will make good his words. You think so, cried the King. Then we'll put him towards a test. You will engage to confront Alison with her mother, he added to the officer. I will, Sire, replied the other, but I shall require the assistance of a dozen men. Take twenty, if you will, replied the King. I am impatient to see what she can do. In a quarter of an hour all shall be ready within the Pavilion, Sire. Replied the officer, you have seen one mask tonight, but you shall now behold a different one. The mask of death! And he disappeared. Nicholas felt sure he would accomplish his task, for he had recognised in him the Cistercian monk. Where is Sir Richard Asherton of Middleton? inquired the King. He left the tower with his daughter down at day, immediately after the banquet, replied Nicholas. And, glad o' it, weak glad, replied the monarch, the terrible intelligence can be the better broken to them. If it had come upon them suddenly it might have been fatal, especially to Poon Lassie. Led Sir Al-Fasherton of Whaley come to me, and Master Richard Knowle of Reed. Your Majesty shall be obeyed, replied Richard Hearton. The King then gave some instructions respecting the prisoners, and bad Master Potts have gen it in readiness. And now to see what terrible thing had happened. End of Chapter 10 Book 3 Chapter 11 of The Lancashire Witches This Librabox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Mentor The Lancashire Witches A Romance of Pendle Forest by William Harrison Ainsworth Book 3 Out and Tower Chapter 11 Fatality Along the eastern terrace a youth and maiden were pacing slowly. They had stolen forth unperceived from the revel, and passing through a door standing inviting the open, had entered the garden. Though overjoyed in each other's presence, the solemn beauty of the night, so powerful in its contrast to the riotous scenes they had just quitted, profoundly impressed them. Above were the deep serene heavens, lighted up by the starry host and their radiant queen. Below the immemorial woods, steeped in silvery mists, arising from the stream flowing past them. All nature was hushed in holy rest. In opposition to the flood of soft light emanating from the lovely planet overhead, and which turned all it fell on, whether tree or tower or stream to beauty, was the artificial glare caused by the torches near the pavilion, while the discordant sounds occasioned by the minstrels tuning their instruments disturbed the repose. As they went on, however, these sounds were lost in the distance, and the glare of the torches was excluded by intervening trees. Then the moon looked down lovingly upon them, and the only music that reached their ears arose from the nightingales. After a pause they walked on again, hand in hand, gazing at each other at the glorious heavens, and drinking in the thrilling melody of the songsters of the grove. At the angle of the terrace was a small arbour placed in the midst of a basket, and they sat down within it. Then, and not till then, did their thoughts find vent in words. Forgetting the sorrows they had endured, and the perils by which they were environed, they found in their deep mutual love a shield against the sharpest arrows of fate. In low, gentle accents they breathed their passion, solemnly plighting their faith before all seeing heaven. Poor souls, they were happy then, intensely happy, alas that their happiness should be so short. For those few moments of bliss, stolen from a waste of tears, were all that was allowed them, inexorable fate still dogged their footsteps. Amid the basket stood a listener to their converse, a little girl with high shoulders and sharp features, on which diabolical malice was stamped, two yellow eyes glistened through the leaves beside her, marking the presence of a cat. As the lovers breathed their vows, and indulged in hopes never to be realized, the wicked child grinned, clenched her hands, and grudging them their short-lived happiness, seemed inclined to interrupt it. Some stronger motive, however, kept her quiet. What are the pair talking of now? She hears her own name mentioned by the maiden, who speaks of her with pity, almost with affection, pardons her for the mischief she has done her, and hopes heaven will pardon her likewise. But she knows not the full extent of the girl's malignity, or even her gentle heart must have been roused to resentment. The little girl, however, feels no compunction. Infernal malice has taken possession of her heart, and crushed every kindly feeling within it. She hates all those that compassionate her, and returns evil for good. What are the lovers talking of now? Of their first meeting at Whaley Abbey, when one was May Queen, and by her beauty and simplicity won the other's heart, losing her own at the same time. A bright, unclouded career seemed to lie before them then. Woefully had it darkened since, alas, alas! The little girl smiles. She hopes they will go on. She likes to hear them talk thus. Past happiness is ever remembered with a pang by the wretched, and they were happy then. Go on. Go on. But they are silent for a while, for they wish to dwell on that hopeful, that blissful season. And a nightingale, a lighting on a bow above them, pours forth its sweet plaint, as if in response to their tender emotions. They praise the bird's song, and it suddenly ceases. For the little girl, full of malevolence, stretches forth her hand, and it drops to the ground as if stricken by a dart. Is thy heart broken, poor bird? exclaimed the young man, taking up the hapless song sir, yet warm and palpitating. To die in the midst of thy song, it is hard. Very hard, replied the maiden tearfully, its fate seems a type of our own. The little girl laughed, but in a low tone unto herself. The pair then grew sad. This slight incident had touched them deeply, and their conversation took on a melancholy turn. They spoke of the blights that had nipped their love in the bud, of the canker that had eaten into its heart, of the destiny that so relentlessly pursued them, threatening to separate them for ever. The little girl laughed merrily. Then they spoke of the grave, and of hope beyond the grave, and they spoke cheerfully. The little girl could laugh no longer, for with her, all beyond the grave, was despair. After that, they spoke of the terrible power that Satan had lately obtained in that unhappy district, of the arts he had employed and of the voteries he had won. Both prayed fervently that his snares might be circumvented, and his rule destroyed. During this part of the discourse, the cat swelled to the size of a tiger, and his eyes glared like fiery coals. He made a motion as if he would spring forward, but the voice of prayer arrested him, and he shrank back to his former size. Poor Janet is ensnared by the fiend, murmured the maiden, and will perish eternally. Would I could save her? It cannot be, replied the young man. She is beyond redemption. The little girl gnashed her teeth with rage. But my mother, I do not now despair of her, said Allison. She has broken the bondage by which she was enchained, and if she resists temptation to the last, I am assured will be saved. Heaven aid her! exclaimed Richard. Scarcely were the words uttered, then the cat disappeared. My tib! When are you, tib? I want you! cried the little girl in a low tone. But the familiar did not respond to the call. Where can he have gone? cried Janet. Tib! Tib! Still the cat came not. And then I, Mondola, worked without him, pursued the little girl, and I went no longer delay it. And with this she crept steadily round the arbor, and approaching the side where Richard sat, watched an opportunity of touching him unperceived. As her finger came in contact with his frame, a pang like death shot through his heart, and he fell upon Allison's shoulder. Are you ill? she exclaimed, gazing at his pallid features, rendered ghastly white by the moonlight. Richard could make no reply, and Allison, becoming dreadfully alarmed, was about to fly for assistance. But the young man, by a great effort, detained her. I'm an odd woman, tell Mr. Potts, her too may be found with him. But a Janet creeping away. Just then Richard recovered his speech, but his words were faintly uttered and with difficulty. Allison, he said, I will not attempt to disguise my condition from you. I'm dying, and my death will be attributed to you. Evil-minded persons have persuaded the king that you have bewitched me. And he will believe that you hodge now. If you would ease the pangs of death for me, if you would console my latest movements, leave me, and quit this place before it be too late. Oh, Richard, she cried distractedly, you ask more than I can perform. If you are indeed in such imminent danger, I will stay with you, will die with you. No, live for me, live, save yourself, Allison. Implored the young man. Your danger is greater than mine. A dreadful death awaits you at stake. Oh, mercy, mercy, heaven, spare her. In pity, spare her. Have we not suffered enough? I can no more. Farewell, forever, Allison. One kiss. The last. And as their lips met, his strength utterly fuzzled him, and he fell backwards. One grave, he murmured. One grave, Allison. And so, without a groan, he expired. Allison neither screamed nor swooned, but remained in a state of stupefaction, gazing at the body. As the moon fell upon the placid features, they looked as if locked in slumber. There he lay, the young, the brave, the beautiful, the loving, the beloved. Fate had triumphed. Death had done his work, but he had only performed half his task. One grave, one grave, it was his last wish. It shall be so! she cried in frenzied tones. I shall thus escape my enemies, and avoid the horrible and shameful death to which they would doom me. And she snatched the dagger from the ill-fated youth side. Now fate I defy thee! she cried with a fearful laugh. One last look at that calm, beautiful face. One kiss of the cold lips which can no more return the endearment, and the dagger is pointed at her breast. But she is withheld by an arm of iron, and the weapon falls from her grasp. She looks up. A tall figure, clothed in the moulding, her billimance of a Cistercian monk stands beside her. She knows the best months at once, for she has seen them before, hanging up in the closet to joining her mother's chamber at Whaley Abbey, and the features of the ghostly monk seem familiar to her. Raised not thy hand against thyself, said the phantom in a tone of awful reproof, it is the fiend prompt thee to do it. He would take advantage of thy misery to destroy thee. I took thee for the fiend, replied Alice, and gazing at him with wonder, rod, and terror. Who art thou? The enemy of thy enemies, and therefore thy friend, replied the monk, I would have saved thy lover if I could, but his destiny was not to be averted. But rest content, I will avenge him. I do not want vengeance, I want to be with him. She replied, frantically embracing the body. Thou wilt soon be with him, said the phantom, in tones of deep significance. Arise, and come with me. Thy mother needs thy assistance. My mother, exclaimed Alice, clearing the blinding tresses from her brow. Where is she? Follow me, and I will bring thee to her, said the monk. And leave him, I cannot, cried Alice, gazing wildly at the body. You must, a soul is at stake, and will perish if you come not, said the monk. He is at rest, and you will speedily rejoin him. With that assurance I will go, replied Alice, with the last look at the object of her love. One grave? Lay us in one grave? It shall be done, according to your wish, said the monk, and he glided on with noiseless footsteps. Alice followed him along the terrace. Presently they came to a dark, euterie walk, leading to a labyrinth, and tracking it swiftly, as well as the over-arched and intricate path to which it conducted, they entered a grotto, whence a flight of steps descended to a subterranean passage, hewn out of the rock. Along this passage, which was of some extent, the monk proceeded, and Alice and followed him. At last they came to another flight of steps, and here the monk stopped. We are now beneath the pavilion where you will find your mother, he said. Mount, the way is clear before you, I have other work to do. Alice an obeyed, and as she advanced, was surprised to find the monk gone. He had neither passed her, nor ascended the steps, and must, therefore, have sunk into the earth. End of Chapter XI. Book III. Chapter XII. Of The Lancashire Witches. This Librabox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter. The Lancashire Witches. A Romance of Pendle Forest. By William Harrison Ainsworth. Book III. Houghton Tower. Chapter XII. The Last Hour. Within the pavilion sat Alice Nutter. She was clad in deep mourning, but her dress seemed disordered as if by hasty travel. Her looks were full of anguish and terror. Her blanched tresses, once so dark and beautiful, hung dishevelled over her shoulders. And her thin hands were clasped in supplication. Her cheeks were ashy pale, but on her brow was a bright red mark, as if traced by a finger dipped in blood. A lamp was burning on the table beside her. Near it was a skull, and near this emblem of mortality, an hourglass, running fast. The windows and doors of the building were closed, and it would seem the unhappy lady was a prisoner. She had been brought there secretly that night, with what intent she knew not, but she felt sure it was with no friendly design towards herself. Early in the day, three horsemen had arrived at her retreat in Pendle Forest, and without making any charge against her, or explaining whether they meant to take her, or indeed answering any inquiry, had brought her off with them, and, proceeding across the country, had arrived at a forest as hut on the outskirts of Houghton Park. Here they tarried till evening, placing her in a room by herself, and keeping strict watch over her. And when the shadows of night fell, they conveyed her through the woods, and by a private entrance to the gardens of the tower, and with equal secrecy to the pavilion, where, setting a lamp before her, they left her to her meditations. All refused to answer her inquiries, but one of them, with a sinister smile, placed the hourglass and skull beside her. Left alone, the wretched lady vainly sought some solution of the enigma, why she had been brought there. She could not solve it, but she determined, if her capture had been made by any lawful authorities, to confess her guilt and submit to condine punishment. Though the window and doors were closed as before mentioned, sounds from without reached her, and she heard confused and tumultuous noises as if from a large assemblage. For what purpose were they met? Could it be for her execution? No, there were strains of music and bursts of laughter, and yet she had heard that the burning of a witch was a spectacle in which the populace delighted, that they looked upon it as a show like any other, and why should they not laugh and have music at it? But could she be executed without trial, without judgment? She knew not. All she knew was that she was guilty and deserved to die. But when the idea took possession of her, the laughter sounded in her ears like the yells of demons, and the strains like the fearful harmonies she had heard at weird sabbaths. All at once she recollected with indescribable terror that on this very night the compact she had entered into with the fiend expired, that at midnight, unless by her penitence and prayers she had worked out her salvation, he could claim her. She recollected also, and with increased uneasiness, that the man who had set the hour-glass on the table, and who had regarded her with a sinister smile as he did so, had said it was eleven o'clock. Her last hour, then, had arrived. Nay, was partly spent, and the moments were passing swiftly by. The agony she endured at this thought was intense. She felt as if reason were forsaking her, and but for her determined efforts to resist it such a crisis might have occurred. But she knew that her eternal welfare depended upon the preservation of her mental balance, and she strove to maintain it, and in the end succeeded. Her gaze was fixed intently on the hour-glass. She saw the sand trickling silently but swiftly down, like a current of life-blood, which, when it ceased, life would cease with it. She saw the shining grains above insensibly diminishing in quantity, and as if she could arrest her destiny by the act, she seized the glass and would have turned it. But the folly of the proceeding arrested her, and she set it down again. Then horrible thoughts came upon her, crushing her and overwhelming her, and she felt, by anticipation, all the torment she would speedily have to endure. Oceans of fire in which miserable souls were forever tossing rolled before her, yells, such as no human anguish can produce, smote her ears. Monsters of frightful form yawned to devour her. Fiends armed with terrible implements of torture, such as the wildest imagination cannot paint, menaced her. All hell and its horrors was there, its dreadful gulf, its roaring furnaces, its rivers of molten metal ever burning, yet never consuming its victims. A hot, sulfurous atmosphere oppressed her, and a film of blood dimmed her sight. She endeavoured to pray, but her tongue cloved to the roof of her mouth. She looked about her for her Bible. But it had been left behind when she was taken from her retreat. She had no safeguard, none. Still the sand ran on. New agonies assailed her. Hell was before her again, but in a new form, and with new torments. She closed her eyes. She shut her ears. But she saw it still, and heard its terrific yells. Again she consults the hourglass. The sand is running on, ever diminishing. New torments assailed her. She thinks of all she loved most on earth, of her daughter. Oh, if Alice and Wynne near her, she might pray for her, might scare away these frightful visions, might save her. She calls to her, but she answers not. No, she is utterly abandoned of God and man, and must perish eternally. Again she consults the hourglass. One quarter of an hour is all that remains to her. Oh, that she could employ it in prayer. Oh, that she could kneel or even weep. A large mirror hangs against the wall, and she is drawn towards it by an irresistible impulse. She sees a figure within it, but she does not know herself. Can that cadaverous object with the white hair that seems newly arisen from the grave be she? It must be a phantom. No, she touches her cheek and finds it is real. But ah, what is this red brand upon her brow? It must be the seal of the demon. She tries to efface it, but it will not come out. On the contrary, it becomes redder and deeper. Again she consults the glass. The sand is still running on. How many minutes remain to her? Ten. cried a voice, replying to her mental inquiry. Ten. And turning, she perceived her familiar standing beside her. Thy time is well my out, Alice Nutter. He said, In ten minutes my lord will claim thee. My compote with thy master is broken. She replied, summoning up all her resolution. I have long ceased to use the power bestowed upon me, but even if I had wished it, thou hast refused to serve me. I have refused to serve you, madam, because you have disobeyed the express injunctions of my master. Replied the familiar. But your apostasy does not free you from bondage. You have merely lost advantages which you might have enjoyed. If you chose to dismiss me, I could not help it. Neither I nor my lord have been to blame. We have performed our part of the contract. Why am I brought hither? Demanded Mistress Nutter. I will tell you. Replied the familiar. You were brought here by order of the king. Your retreat was revealed to him by master Potts, who learned it from Janet Device. The sapient sovereign intended to confront you with your daughter, Alison, who, like yourself, is accused of witchcraft. But he will be disappointed for when he comes for you. You will be out of his reach. And he rubbed his hands at the jest. Alison, accused of witchcraft, says now, cried Mistress Nutter. I replied the familiar. She is suspected of bewitching Richard Ashton, who has been done to death by Janet Device. For one so young, the little girl has certainly a rare turn for Miss Jiff. But no one will know the real author of the crime, and Alison will suffer for it. Heaven will not suffer such iniquity, said the lady. As you have nothing to do with heaven, madam, it is needless to refer to it, said the familiar. But it is certainly rather hard that one so young as Alison should perish. Can you save her? asked Mistress Nutter. Oh, yes, I could save her. But she will not let me. replied the familiar with a grin. No, no, it is impossible, cried the wretched woman, and I cannot help her. Perhaps you might. observed the tempter. My master, whom you accuse of harshness, is ever willing to oblige you. You have a few minutes left. Do you wish him to aid her? Come on me, then I will obey you. This is some snare, thought Mistress Nutter. I will resist it. You cannot be worse off than you are, remarked the familiar. I know not that, replied the lady. What would thou do? Whatever you command me, madam, I can do nothing of my own accord. Shall I bring your daughter here? Say, sir, and it shall be done. No, thou wouldst ensnare me, she replied. I will know that thou hast no power over her. Thou wouldst place some phantasm before me. I would see her, but not through thy agency. She is here, cried Allison, opening the door of a closet, and rushing towards her mother, who instantly locked her in her arms. But pray for me, my child, cried Mistress Nutter, mastering her emotion, for I shall be snatched from you for ever. My moments are numbered. Pray, pray! Allison fell on her knees and prayed fervently. You waste your breath! Cried the familiar in a mocking tone. Never till the branch shall disappear from your brow, and the writing traced in her blood shall vanish from this parchment. Can she be saved? She is mine. Play, Allison, play! Shriek, Mistress Nutter. I will tear her in pieces if she does not cease. Cried the familiar, assuming a terrible shape, and menacing her with claws like those of a wild beast. Pray thou, mother, cried Allison. I cannot, replied the lady. I will kill her if she then makes the attempt. Held the demon. But try, mother, try, cried Allison. The poor lady dropped on her knees and raised her hands in humble supplication. Heaven forgive me! She exclaimed. The demon seized the hourglass. The sand is out. The term has expired. She is mine. He cried. A clasp by arms tightly round me, my child. He cannot take me from thee. Shriek the agonised woman. Release her, Allison, or I will slay thee likewise. Roared the demon. Never, she replied. Thou canst not overcome me. Ah! she added joyfully. The brand has disappeared from her brow. I am the writing from the parchment. Held the demon. But I will have her not with tending. And he plunged his claws into Alice Nutter's flesh. But her daughter held her fast. Oh, hold me, my child, hold me, or I am lost. Shriek the lady. Be warned. And let her go, or my life shall pay for hers. cried the demon. My life for hers willingly, replied Allison. Then take thy fate. Rejoined the evil spirit. And placing his hand upon her heart, it instantly ceased to beat. Mother, thou art saved, saved! exclaimed Allison, throwing out her arms. And gazing at her for an instant with a seraphic look, she fell backwards and expired. Thou art mine! roared the demon, seizing Mistress Nutter by the hair, and dragging her from her daughter's body, to which she clung desperately. Help! help! she cried. Thou mayst call, but thy cries will be unheeded. Rejoined the familiar with mocking laughter. Thou liest false bean, said Mistress Nutter. Heaven will help me now. And as she spoke, the sisters and monks stood before them. Hence, he cried with an imperious gesture to the demon, she is no longer in thy power. Hence, and with a howl of rage and disappointment, the familiar vanished. Alice Nutter continued the monk, thy safety has been purchased at the price of thy daughter's life, but it is a little moment, for she could not live long. Her gentle heart was broken, and when the demon stopped it for ever, he performed unintentionally a merciful act. She must rest in the same grave with him she loved so well during life. This tell to those who will come to the Anon. Thou art delivered from the yoke of Satan. Full expiation has been made, but earthly justice must be satisfied. Thou must pay the penalty for crimes committed in the flesh, but what thou sufferest here shall avail thee hereafter. I am content, she replied. Pass the rest of thy life in penitence and prayer. Pursued the monk, and let nothing divert thee from it. For thou free now, thou wilt be subject to evil influence and temptations to the last. Remember this. I will, she rejoined. And now, he said, kneel beside thy daughter's body and pray. I will return to the air many minutes be past. One task more, and then my mission is ended. By William Harrison Ainsworth Chapter 13 The Mask of Death Short time as he had to wait, James was unable to control his impatience. At last he arose, and completely sobered by the recent strange events, descended the steps of the platform, and walked on without assistance. Let the reaman of the guard keep back the crowd, he said to an officer, and let none follow me but Sir Ralph Ashton, Master Nicholas Ashton, and Master Roger Noor. When I call, let the prisoners be brought forward. Your majesty shall be obeyed, replied the Baronet, giving the necessary directions. James then moved slowly forward in the direction of the pavilion, and as he went called Nicholas Ashton to him. Who was that officer? he asked. Your pardon, my liege, but I cannot answer the question, replied Nicholas. And by not, sir, demanded the monarch sharply. For reasons which I will hear after, render to your majesty, and which I am persuaded, you will find satisfactory. rejoined the squire. Well, well, I dare see your rate, said the king. But dear, think he'll keep his word. I'm sure of it, returned Nicholas. There, the time has come then, exclaimed James impatiently, and looking up at the pavilion. The time is come, echoed a sepultral voice. Did you speak? inquired the monarch. No, sir, replied Nicholas. But someone seems to give you intimation that all is ready. Will it please you to go on? Enter, cried the voice. Who speaks? demanded the king, and as no answer was returned, he continued, and will not set foot in the structure, it may be a snare of Satan. At this moment the shutters of the window flew open, showing that the pavilion was lighted up by many tapers within, while solemn strains of music issued from it. Enter, repeated the voice. Have no fear, sir, said Nicholas. Ah, that can a bit of work of the demon, cried James. He does not delight in holy hymns and sweet music. That is a solemn dirge for the dead, observed Nicholas, as melodious voices mingled with the music. We'll, we'll, we'll go on at our husbands, said James. The doors flew open as the king and his attendants approached, and as soon as they passed through them the valves swung back to their places. A strange, sad spectacle met their gaze. In the midst of the chamber stood a beer, covered with a velvet pawl, and on it the bodies of a youth and maiden were deposited. Pale and beautiful were they as sculptured marble, and a smile sat upon their features. Side by side they were lying, with their arms enfolded, as if they had died in each other's embrace. A wreath of ewe and cypress was placed above their heads, and flowers were scattered round them. They were Richard and Allison. It was a deeply touching sight, and for some time non-spoke. The solemn dirge continued, interrupted only by the stifled sobs of the listeners. Both gone, exclaimed Nicholas, in accents broken by emotion, and so young, so good, so beautiful, alas, alas! She could not have bewitched him, said the king. Ah, Allison was all purity and goodness, cried Nicholas, and is now numbered with the angels. The guilty one is in thy hands, O king, said the voice. It is for thee to punish. And I will not hold my hand, said James. The devices shall assuredly perish. When I go from this chamber, I will have them conveyed under strong escort to Lancaster Castle. They shall die by the hands of the common executioner. My mission then is complete, replied the voice. I can rest in peace. Who art thou, demanded the king? One who sinned deeply, but is now pardoned, replied the voice. The king was for a moment lost in reflection, and then turned to depart. At this moment a kneeling figure, whom no one had hitherto noticed, arose from behind the beer. It was a lady, robed in mourning. So ghastly pale were her features, and so skeleton-like her attenuated frame, that James thought he beheld a spectre, and recoiled in terror. The figure advanced slowly towards him. Oh, and what art thou in heaven's name? he exclaimed. I am Alice Nutt at Sire, replied the lady, prostrating herself before him. Alice Nutt, the witch, cried the king. Why, I recollect the worth here, I sent for thee. But the recent terrible events had put thee clean out of my head, but expect no grace from me, evil woman, I will show thee none. I asked non-Sire, replied the penitent. I came to place myself in your hands, that justice may be done upon me. Ah, exclaimed James, just thou indeed repent the other iniquitous, just thou adjure the devil and all his works. I do, replied the lady fervently. My compact with the evil one has been broken by the prayers of my devoted daughter, who sacrificed herself for me, and thereby saved my soul alive. But human justice requires an expiation, and I am anxious to make it. Ah, arise, ill-fated woman, said the king, much moved. You must go to Lancaster, but in consideration of your penitence no indignity shall be shown you. You must be strictly guarded, but you shall not be taken with the other prisoners. I humbly thank your majesty, replied the lady. May I take a last farewell of my child? Do so, replied James. Alice Nutter then approached the beer, and after gazing for a moment with deepest fondness upon the features of her daughter, imprinted a kiss upon her marble brow. In doing this her tears fell fast. You can weep, I see! observed the king. You are a witch no longer. I haven't be praised, I can weep, she replied, and so ease my overburdened heart. Oh, sir, none but those who have experienced it can tell the agony of being denied this relief of nature. Farewell for ever, my blessed child! she exclaimed, kissing her brow again, and you too, her beloved. Nicholas Asherton, it was her wish to be buried in the same grave with Richard. You will see it done, Nicholas. I will, I will! replied the squire. In the voice of deepest emotion. And I likewise promise it, said Sir Ralph Asherton, they shall rest together in Whaley Churchyard. It is well that Sir Richard and Dorothy are gone, he observed to Nicholas. It is indeed, said the squire, we should have had another funeral to perform. Pray heaven it be not so now! Have you any other request to prefer? demanded the king. None whatever, sire, replied the lady, except that I wish to make full restitution of all the land I have robbed him of to Master Roger Knowle, and as some compensation I would feign add certain lands adjoining, which have been conveyed over to Sir Ralph and Nicholas Asherton, only annexing the condition that a small sum annually be given in dole to the poor of this parish that I may be remembered in their prayers. We will see it done, said Sir Ralph and Nicholas. And I will see my path fulfilled, said Knowle. For any wrong you have done me I now feebly and fully forgive you, and may heaven in its infinite mercy forgive you likewise. Amen! ejaculated the monarch, and all the others joined in the ejaculation. The king then moved to the door, which was open for him by the two Ashertons. At the foot of the steps stood Master Potts, attended by an officer of the guard, and a party of Halberdears. In the midst of them, with their hands tied behind their backs, were Jem Device, his mother Jenet, and poor Nance Redfern. Jem looked dogged and sullen. Elizabeth downcast, but Jenet maintained her accustomed, malignant expression. Poor Nance was the only one who excited any sympathy. Jenet's malice seemed now directed against Master Potts, whom she charged with having betrayed and deceived her. If Devon now deserted me, I should tear their faces to ill-fave a little monster. She cried, Monster in your own face, you hideous little bitch, exclaimed the indignant attorney. If you use such appropriate efforts I will have you gagged. You will be taken to Lancaster Castle and hanged. You are as bad as I am and worse, replied Jenet. I deserve hanging as well, and the king shall know your tricks. She were assyphirated, as James appeared at the door of the pavilion. You wish to ensnare Alison, you wish me to kill her. I was only your instrument. Stop her mouth, again her, cried Potts. There, there, there, thou shalt not stop my mouth, thou shalt not gag me, cried Jenet. I win, speaker, the king shall hear me. You're as bad as me. All malice, your Majesty, all malice, cried the attorney. Malice n'adote in great part, replied James. But some truth has wheeled here, sir, and in any case it will prevent my doing anything for you. There, you have ruined my hopes, you little wretch. You have cried Potts furiously. You are a great gladont, said Jenet. You bet debt me to Lancaster Castle, but you're gonna hang me. I know that full well. I shall get out and then look to yourself, lad, for as sure as I am Mother Dendak's granddaughter, I'll plague the life after you. Take my prisoners away and let them be conveyed under a strict escort to Lancaster Castle, said James. And as the ascises commence next week, quick work will be made with them, your Majesty, observed Potts. Their guilt can be incontestably proved, and they are sure to be found guilty, sure to be hanged, sir. As the prisoners were removed, Nancy Redfern looked round her, and catching the eye of Nicholas made a slight motion with her head, as if bidding them farewell. The squire returned the mute valediction. Purnance, he exclaimed compassionately, I sincerely pity her. Would there was any means of saving her? There is none, observed Sir Ralph Asherton, and you may be thankful that you are not brought in as her accomplice. As Jenet was taken away, she continued to hurl threats and implications against Potts. Another officer of the guard was then summoned, and when he came, James said, What another prisoner remains within the pavilion? She likewise must be conveyed to Lancaster Castle, but in a litter, and not with the other prisoners. Attended by Sir Richard Howton, the monarch then proceeded to his lodgings in the tower. End of Chapter 13 Book 3 Chapter 14 Of The Lancashire Witches This Librabox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter The Lancashire Witches A Romance of Pendle Forest by William Harrison Ainsworth Book 3 Howton Tower Chapter 14 One Grave Notwithstanding the sad occurrences above detailed, James remained for two more days the guest of Sir Richard Howton, enjoying his princely hospitality, hunting in the park, carousing in the great hall, and witnessing all kinds of sports. Nothing, indeed, was left to remind him of the sad events that had occurred. The prisoners were taken that night to Lancaster Castle, and Master Potts accompanied the escort to be ready for their sizes. The three judges proceeded there at the end of the week. The attendance of Roger Knowle, Nicholas and Sir Ralph Ashton was also required as witnesses at the Trial of the Witches. Sir Richard Ashton and Dorothy had returned, as already stated, to Middleton, and though the intelligence of the death of Richard and Alison was communicated to them with infinite caution, the shock to both was very great, especially to Dorothy, who was long, very long, in recovering from it. Nicholas's vivacity of temperament made him feel the loss of his cousin at first very keenly, but it soon wore off. He vowed amendment and reformation on the model of John Bruin, whose life offered so striking a contrast to his own, that it has very properly been placed in opposition by a reverent moralist. But I regret to say that he did not carry out his praiseworthy intentions. He was apt to make a joke of John Bruin, instead of imitating his example. He professed to devote himself to his excellent wife, but his old habits would break out, and I am sorry to say he was often to be found in the alehouse, and was just as fond of horse-racing, cock-fighting, hunting, fishing, and all other sports as ever. Occasionally he occupied a leisure or a rainy day with a journal, parts of which have been preserved. Author's note. Published by the Chetum Society and admirably edited with notes, exhibiting an extraordinary amount of research and information, by the Reverend R. Reigns M.A. F.S.A. of Mildrew Parsonage near Rochdale. End of note. But he sat down in it a few of the terrible events here related, probably because they were of too painful a nature to be recorded. He died in 1625, at the early age of thirty-five. But to go back. A few days after the tragic events at Houghton Tower, the whole village of Whaley was a stir, but it was no festive occasion, no merry-making that called forth the inhabitants, for grief sat on every countenance. The day, too, was gloomy, the feathered summits of Whaley Nab were wreathed in mist, and a fine rain descended in the valley. The calder looked dull and discoloured as it flowed past the walls of the ancient Abbey, the church bell tolled mournfully, and a large concourse was gathered in the churchyard. Not far from one of the three crosses of Paulinus, which stood nearest the church porch, a grave had been digged, and almost every one looked into it. The grave, it was said, was intended to hold two coffins. Soon after this, a train of mourners issued from the ancient Abbey gateway, and sure enough, there were two coffins on the shoulders of the bearers. They were met at the gate by Dr. Ormerod, who was so deeply affected as scarcely to be able to perform the needful offices for the dead. The principal mourners were Sir Richard Ashton of Middleton, Sir Ralph Ashton, and Nicholas. Amid the tears and sobs of all the bystanders, the bodies of Richard and Allison were committed to the earth, laid together in one grave. Thus was their latest wish fulfilled. Flowers grew upon the turf that covered them, and there was the earliest primrose scene, and the latest violet. Many a fond youth and trusting maiden have visited their lowly tomb, and many a tear, fresh from the heart, has dropped upon the sod, covering the ill-fated lovers. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Book 3 of The Lancashire Witches This Librabox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter The Lancashire Witches A Romance of Pendle Forest by William Harrison Ainsworth Book 3 Houghton Tower Chapter 15 Lancaster Castle Behold the grim and giant fabric, rebuilt and strengthened by old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster. Within one of its turrets, called John of Gaunt's chair, and it even tied, stands a lady under the care of a jailer. It is the last sunset she will ever see, the last time she will look upon the beauties of earth, for she is a prisoner, condemned to die an ignominious and terrible death, and her execution will take place on the morrow. Leaving her alone within the turret, the jailer locks the door and stands outside it. The lady casts a long, lingering look around. All nature seems so beautiful, so attractive. The sunset upon the broad, watery sands of Morcambay is exquisite in varied tints. The fells of furnace look black and bold, and the windings of the loon are clearly traced out. But she casts a wistful glance towards the mountainous ridges of Lancashire, and fancies she can detect among the heights, the rounded summit of Pendle Hill. Then her gaze settles upon the grey old town beneath her, and as her glance wanders over it, certain terrible objects arrest it. In the area before the castle she sees a ring of tall stakes. She knows well their purpose and counts them. They are thirteen in number. Thirteen wretched beings are to be burned on the morrow. Not far from the stakes is an enormous pile of faggots. All is prepared. Fascinated by the sight, she remains gazing at the place of execution for some time. And when she turns, she beholds a tall, dark man standing beside her. At first she thinks it is the jailer, and is about to tell the man she is ready to descend to her cell. Then she recognises him and recoils in terror. I can save thee from the stake, if thou wilt, Alice Nutter. He said, Hence, she exclaimed, thou temptest me in vain. Hence! And with a howl of rage the demon disappeared. Conveyed back to the cell, situated within the dread dungeon tower, Alice Nutter passed the whole of that night in prayer. Towards four o'clock, weirded out, she dropped into a slumber, and when the clergyman, from whom she had received spiritual consolation, came to her cell, he found her still sleeping, but with a sweet smile upon her lips, the first he had ever beheld there. Unwilling to disturb her, he knelt down and prayed by her side. At length the jailer came, and the executioner's aid. The divine then laid his hand upon her shoulder, and she instantly arose. I am ready, she said, cheerfully. You have had a happy dream, daughter, he observed. A blessed dream, reference her, she replied. I thought I saw my children, Richard and Alison, in a fair garden. Oh, how angelic they looked, and they told me I should be with them soon! And I doubt not the vision will be realized, replied the clergyman. Your redemption, if fully worked out, and your salvation, I trust secured. And now you must prepare for your last trial. I am fully prepared, she replied. But will you knock out of the others? Alas, my dear daughter, he replied, they all, excepting none's red fur, refuse my services, and will perish in their iniquities. Then go to her, sir, I entreat of you, she said. She may yet be saved. But what of Janet? Is she too to die? No, replied the divine, being evidence against her relatives, her life is spared. Heaven grant she do no more mischief! explained Alice Nutter. She then submitted herself to the executioner's assistance, and was led forth. On issuing into the open air a change came over her, and such an exceeding faintness that she had to be supported, she was led towards the stake in this state. But she grew fainter and fainter, and at last fell back in the arms of the men who supported her. Still they carried her on. When the executioner put out his hand to receive her from her aids, she was found to be quite dead. Nevertheless he tied her to the stake, and her body was consumed. Hundreds of spectators beheld those terrible fires, who exalted in the torments of the miserable sufferers. Their shrieks and blasphemes were terrific, and the place resembled a hell upon earth. Jenny's escaped to the dismay of Master Potts, who feared she would wreak her threatened vengeance upon him. And indeed he did suffer from aches and cramps which he attributed to her, but which were more reasonably supposed to be owing to room caught in the marshes in Pendle Forest. He had, however, the pleasure of assisting at her execution, when some years afterwards, retributive justice overtook her. Jenny was the last of the Lancashire witches, ever since then witchcraft has taken a new form with the ladies of the county, though their fascination and spells are as potent as ever. Few can now escape them, few desire to do so, but to all who are afraid of a bright eye and a blooming cheek, and who desire to adhere to a bachelor's condition, to such, I should say, beware of the Lancashire witches. End of Chapter 15 End of Book 3 and End of The Lancashire Witches by Harrison Ainsworth Read for LibriVox by Andy Minter Near Tring, Hartfordshire, October 2009